


Promises

by CosmicCthulhu



Series: Tales of full moon nights [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Draco Malfoy, Banter, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hurt/Comfort, Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Post-Hogwarts, Pre-Relationship, Werewolf Draco Malfoy, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 11:28:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicCthulhu/pseuds/CosmicCthulhu
Summary: Draco was going to go through his first full moon transformation and Hermione was keen to keep her promise of staying by his side - whether he likes it or not.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Tales of full moon nights [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060808
Comments: 4
Kudos: 43





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Set directly after The Moon Beckons (might make more sense if you read that fic first)
> 
> English is not my first language, and this work is unbeta'd so all errors are my own.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise.

They were all gathered in her tiny office signing the documents regarding his and Roderick’s werewolves registrations and statuses as _‘cursed magical beings’_ \- a label that Hermione particularly abhorred and hoped to change soon. 

Roderick was filling the room with idle chatter, happily talking about some friends he had already made in the span of a few weeks since he had moved into the little cottage Draco had bought him, as well as the new job at the little village’s coffee shop that seemed okay with his _ ‘condition’  _ and his status as a muggle _ ( or as a squib, technically ). _

Hermione was happy to notice how much healthier and happier the young muggle already looked - he wasn’t looking as skinny as he used to be and it seemed to finally gain some colour to his constitution. 

And while talking and drinking his tea, Hermione was careful to write down important points in Roderick's speech, in order to establish strong arguments and ideas for her Werewolf Rights proposed legislation. After all, Roderick was lucky that Draco found a village with progressive visions of lycanthropy, however, the witch knew very well that there was still a lot of prejudice and injustice towards the cursed population. 

The blond wizard, for his part, remained deadly quiet and forlorn, staring intensely at his scarred arm and adding very little to the conversation in the room. His dreadful Dark Mark was practically gone, thanks to the other wolf’s sharp teeth, but now he had a whole new set of complications he had to deal with for the rest of his life.

Robards was kind enough not to fire him right away, but it was clear that he wasn’t exactly happy with the news, either. 

Draco would have to thank Granger yet again for her insistence that he should start to warm up to Potter and Weasley. After all, if it wasn’t for the Golden Boy himself vouching for him and his skills as an auror, Merlin knows what would have happened by now.

“The full moon is going to rise next Monday,” Hermione announced to both of them with a slight frown, “you’ll both need to take the wolfsbane and find a secure place to hide in for the night.”

“I’m already brewing enough vials for Roderick and I,” Draco drawled on, briefly looking away from his ghastly scar, but still refusing to look at the occupants of the room. 

“A couple of friends told me I could crash at their basement for the night.” The black-haired kid said with a genuine smile. 

He continued to ramble on about said friends, making sure to express how grateful he was for them and though she was glad to hear about how well the muggle was doing, Hermione was still painfully aware that the other wizard had remained silent and with a cold stare in his eyes.

After the room came to a gradual silence, the witch looked at Draco, with a silent question in her eyes. The man hesitated for a second before replying in a curt nod. 

“I’ll be spending the night at the Manor’s dungeons.”

“You can’t!”

“I have to. It’s the only secure place that I can hide in. It just makes more sense,” the blond man insisted.

“And you’re going to be alone in a place that makes you sick? There has to be somewhere else!”

“My mother will be there,” he shrugged, and with a sad smile, he added with a low mutter “it’s not like she can go anywhere else.”

The muggle quietly watched the interaction with a confused expression, trying to understand the issue and to think of anything useful to add as a way to help.  “I don’t know if it will always be that way. But my first night was downright awful. Never felt so much pain in my life! I really don’t think you want to be alone for this.”

“Something to look forward to,” Draco snapped at the younger man, already getting up from his seat and excusing himself to return to the Auror Department. He couldn’t stay a second longer in that stifling room, with Granger’s rich brown eyes looking at him full of  _ pity _ and _ regret. _

And he still had to settle how he was going to carry on with his job now that he was a werewolf. He needed to complete the reports of the former Greyback’s pack sightings. He needed to break the news for his mother and find out a way to keep it a secret from his father. He needed to sort out  _ what _ he truly felt for Granger and  _ how _ he should deal with it. 

He really couldn’t deal with a hundred crisis all at once. 

It was best if he just left. He’d hurt a lot less people if he were to just remain alone, anyway. 

Hermione hadn’t had the time to add any sort of advice. The tall man had already slammed the door shut on his way out of her office.

\-----

Draco was avoiding her.

Throughout the week, Hermione tried to contact the blond man by all different means possible. 

She sent several owls, but they all returned unanswered and the floo was completely blocked out for her. She sent him several patronus, but he never met her or responded, either.  She even tried talking to him personally, going down to the Bullpen several times a day, only to find Harry looking apologetic and explaining to her that Draco had set off to a mission or to sort out some classified paperwork.

“He’s getting more and more irritable,” Harry remarked on Saturday, as they both hung out at the Burrow. What had started as a simple catch up among friends had turned to them discussing Draco's sudden need for isolation. “Yesterday he was so angry, he punched a suspect and nearly broke his jaw! He was lucky the guy was an ex-Death Eater, so Robards didn’t mind much, but he needs to straighten himself up.”

The witch worried her lip, sighing in defeat, as she inevitably wondered why was Draco suddenly so cold towards her. Had he forgotten that she promised to be by his side? Did she misread the whole situation back in their first mission together?

“‘Mione…”

“We’re not dating,” she felt the need to clarify, already predicting what Harry was going to ask. “I mean, I don’t know. We went on a date and it was nice, but we didn’t really do anything else, considering everything that has happened.”

“But you like him. I mean, it’s fairly obvious that you do.”

“I just don’t want him to get hurt. The first transition is always the hardest, and I can’t let him go through it alone.”

The green-eyed man grumbled something under his breath that sounded like ‘that damn ferret’, but Hermione could be sure. “He told me he was going to stay at the Manor.”

“I know.”

“You can’t go there.”

“I think I might.”

“Hermione!” The man looked exasperated, and she crossed her arms in a defensive stance. With the years of friendship they had in the bag, it was clear that she wouldn’t back down and there’s nothing Harry could do about it

Instead, he sighed and looked at her. “I don’t want you to get hurt, either.”

“I’m a big girl. I can handle it,” she shrugged with knitted brows and a sad smile, making sure to change the subject of their conversation and let thoughts of Draco and his terrible decision-making skills fade into the background. 

\-----

When Monday finally arrived, Hermione was only half-paying attention at the reports about the magical uses of manticore blood. She had checked in with Harry earlier and he had already informed her that Draco was too sick to show up for work, and that piece of information only served to increase her worrying ten-fold.

For hours she pondered carefully the pros and cons of simply waltzing back into the place she had been tortured in just for the sake of comforting a man that clearly didn’t want to be comforted by her.

But deep down, she knew Draco. That infuriating stubborn man that she grew to care about since their Eight Year in Hogwarts.

Hermione knew that he hadn’t chosen the Manor out of spite for her, nor was he particularly thrilled by the thoughts of returning  _ there _ either. And she also knew that the man was avoiding her because he still had that ridiculously stupid idea that he wasn’t good enough for her drilled into his brain.

She glanced back at her clock and groaned when realized that she still had piles of work to do, and very little time to come up with a decision. With a last glance at the paperwork, she gathered her robes, and rushed into the apparition point. _‘The manticore blood can wait until tomorrow.’_

She arrived with a loud crack and needed to take a moment to regain her composure, as she felt the nauseating feeling of the apparition amplifying by the vision of the imposing Malfoy Manor gates. She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes, not quite ready to glance at the place she swore she’d never step inside again.

The sun was slowly descending towards the horizon, but Hermione knew she had a good hour and a half or so to gather her courage and solidify her promise to that bull-headed wizard.

A crack in the air alerted Hermione that someone had showed up beside her, and when she opened her eyes to look, there was a cleanly-dressed and polite house elf beckoning her and opening the gates, letting her in. 

“Lady Malfoy was expecting you.”

True to the elf’s words, when he opened the front door and allowed the witch to step inside, there was the tall and regal blonde witch, observing silently the slightly disheveled and nervous brunette encroaching upon her home. 

Hermione couldn’t help but notice how well composed and tranquil the woman looked - it was hard to believe that she was living under strict house arrest rules and currently housing a recently turned and dangerous werewolf in said house. And that said werewolf was her only  _ son _ . 

Either there was nothing in the world that could faze that woman, or she was really good at masking her own feelings. To be fair, Draco had probably inherited that cold stoicism from her.

“Oh,” Hermione tried to force a friendly smile, but her trembling hands were more than enough to denounce how nervous she was. “Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Please, call me Narcissa,” she said with an emotionless and well-crafted tone. Hermione could see that her blue eyes were carefully analyzing that entirely unique situation.

“I’ve come here to check on your son...” Hermione hesitated, unsure if she should suddenly make up another excuse for her presence there. Maybe Draco’s mother would find it strange for her, a mousy and poor muggleborn, seemingly random visit. “...For work?”

Narcissa responded with a very undignified snort and a subtle smirk, very similar to Draco’s own. ‘Probably a genetic trait,’ Hermione thought with a hint of fascination and apprehension.

“Dear, I had a feeling you’d show up. Draco has been calling for you all day.”

With an outstretched hand, Narcissa guided Hermione into the confusing and terrifying halls of the Manor. The muggleborn felt a knot tying into the pit of her stomach, but she kept thinking about the promise she had made to Draco, deciding that she needed to at least  _ see  _ him before the moonrise.

There were several portraits on the walls, many of which were covered with cloths and heavy drapes, preventing them from voicing their thoughts. Several doors had been clearly barred and locked, as well as a sickly smell of fresh paint lingering in some of the rooms.  There were also several house elves scurrying along the rooms and corridors, making sure everything was thoroughly clean, but to Hermione’s relief, they all seemed to be well-treated by the lady of the Manor.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to go anywhere near  _ that _ room,” Narcissa reassured her, after the third time Hermione had flinched away, when turning into a corner. “In fact, I’ve been planning on reforming that entire wing of the Manor.”

The brunette didn’t respond, both because she was unsure what to say and because she was frustrated with herself for failing at being as subtle as the other woman. She was dreading the fact that the older witch was perfectly well composed whilst she was on the verge of a breakdown.

Instead, she changed the subject, to a comment she had been thinking about ever since the other witch had mentioned. “You said that Draco called for me?”

“He did. It’s been a very difficult day for both of us,” the woman sighed, and only then Hermione could imagine how tired she was, behind all that composed façade. “I was seconds away from breaking the terms of my house arrest to get you to come here.”

“And how is he holding up?” Hermione asked, daring to place a friendly and comforting hand on the older woman’s shoulder.

“He has quite a high fever. And I think he may be... hallucinating,” the woman paused, gathering her thoughts and trying to remain calm. “He called me by your name. Honestly, I’d feel offended if you weren’t such a pretty and young witch.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Now that you’re here, I’m sure he’ll be.”

Finally, the two witches descended the last row of steps that led into the dark and cold dungeons. A sharp, loud and pained whine echoed through the walls, followed by a series of pitiful moans of a man clearly suffering.  _Alone._

After a moment of dead silence, another loud groan was emitted from the furthest cell in the dungeons.

“Hermione-'' It sounded like he was crying, like he was suffering a great deal of pain, too.

The young witch didn’t hesitate when she ran towards the origin of the sound, finding a locked and heavily warded metal door. She tried using the Alohomora charm, but unsurprisingly, the door remained firmly locked.

“Draco?” He didn’t respond, but his groans died down, as if he was forcing himself to be quiet and to listen to the sounds outside his cells. “Draco are you in there?”

“Am I dreaming?” He said after a while, almost in a whisper and with disbelief and awe in his voice.

“I’m here, Draco,” Hermione reassured, still trying several spells to unlock the door, to no avail. “I promised you I’d be by your side, remember? Let me in.”

“Absolutely not!” He suddenly snarled, and by the sound of the thud at the door, she supposed the man was leaning his weight against the metal from the other side, much like she was doing.

“You still have an hour before the moonrise. And your mother told me you have a high fever.”

“Sixty minutes is too close to comfort for me. And I’ve survived fevers before. You need to get out of here,” he said with a strangled cry and laboured breathing.

“Why?”

“Because this is not the place for you to stay. Honestly, how did you even manage to step inside this rotted hellhole?”

“I told you that you wouldn't be alone for this. I promised you,” she said with a light tone, and smiled when she heard what sounded like a chuckle coming from the other side of the door, though it was hard to tell because of the barrier he had set between them. She was almost worried something horrible had happened, for how long the man had remained quiet after her admission.  


“I didn’t think you were being serious.”

“I would never lie about something like that.”

His mother was still standing at the edge of the staircase, carefully watching the interaction between her son and the witch he had been moaning about all day. Though it wasn’t the type of woman she had imagined Draco would end up with, she could see why he was infatuated with her after all. 

_ And well, Narcissa wasn’t particularly thrilled with the prospect of blood purity as of late. _

“There’s still plenty of time before the moonrise. I’ll get you something to eat,” the blond witch spoke, with her eternally impartial tone.  


“There’s no need-”

“Nonsense! I’d never let such an honorable guest starve in my home, especially if they’ve come to take care of my son!” She insisted, lifting her chin up in the air in a show of aristocratic grace. With a sharp turn, she ascended the staircase, letting Hermione alone in the dungeons with a disgruntled Draco.

“Merlin, she’s not even trying to be subtle,” her son complained in the background.  


“Are you sure you don’t want to let me in?”

“If I had it my way, you wouldn’t even be here in the first place,” he grunted, and Hermione tried not to feel too hurt by his statement.

Sensing her constraint through her silence, almost as if he had read her mind, the man was quick to amend. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I just don’t want to hurt you,” and after a heavy sigh, he added. “I just found out I’m a right git when the full moon is nearing.”

“So I heard,” she couldn’t help but chuckle at that, remembering how exasperated Harry looked when talking about his snappish behaviour. “But I would know you didn’t mean it.”

He paused, and for a minute, not even his heavy breathing could be heard from the other side of the door. “There’s nothing I can offer you. I’m a werewolf. An ex-Death Eater and a very arrogant man, as well. You really shouldn’t get closer to me.”

If she wasn’t so worried about his well-being, Hermione would have thrown a Bombarda at the door and hauled that man out of the cell so that she could properly glare and yell at him. “I’m amazed that you were the second smartest wizard at Hogwarts, considering how  _ stupid _ you can be sometimes!”

“Well, it’s hard to believe the Brightest Witch of our Age would want to get involved with someone like me, too!” 

“Good Lord, Malfoy! You’re so incredibly stubborn!” She hissed, trying not to shout at him, mostly out of concern that his mother would try to intervene. And well, she was still worried about his well being anyway. “We can talk about this tomorrow, when you act less like an idiot.”

“Fine!” She could feel he was throwing his hands on the air, rolling his eyes like he usually did when they bickered. “We’ll see who’s acting like an idiot when morning comes.”

“Just so you know, I’m staying,” she clarified to him with a huff.

“Whatever you say, Granger,” he snarked back.

Hermione checked on her watch, announcing to the man that they still had more than half an hour before the moonrise. Narcissa soon appeared, with a very devious smile of someone that clearly eavesdropped the whole conversation.

Together, she and Hermione kept the man company, trying and failing to coax him to come out and take a dose of Pepper up for his fever or to eat something before his transition.

Soon, the witch’s watch beeped, indicating that the moon was already rising in the sky, and just as she announced it to the other occupants of the dungeon, Draco let out a pained gasp, followed by a loud yell and the sickly sound of something tearing or breaking.

The older witch grabbed the muggleborn’s hand tightly, desperately looking for comfort, and when Hermione looked at her face, she could see that the older witch was crying, resisting the urge of blowing the door on its hinges to get to her son. 

It was far more distressing than any of them had expected.

“You should go to your room, Narcissa. Draco wouldn’t want you to suffer,” the brunette whispered, trying to block out the sounds of howling and growling from the other side of the door.

“The same can be said for you, dear,” Narcissa pointed out kindly, and Hermione unconsciously reached for her eyes, wiping away the unshed tears.

“I’ll be fine, and I’ll make sure that Draco gets through it okay, too,” the brunette said with a strained smile, gently motioning the blonde to go back upstairs to get some proper rest. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Call for me if anything happens,” the older witch begged, already leaving the place hastefully, just as another loud howl echoed in the dungeons.

With a sigh and a worried glance at the locked door, Hermione cast a cushioning charm on the floor, and laid down next to the shut door, listening to Draco’s gradually quieter whimpers. 

And when silence finally realmed over the dungeons, Hermione sniffed and knitted her brows, thinking about their previous conversations.

“I wish you could see just how wonderful you are,” she whispered to him, even though she knew the wolf wouldn’t remember. “I wish you could accept that I care about you, despite your flaws.”

\-----

When morning arrived, Draco opened his bleary eyes and immediately regretted it, as a sudden wave of vertigo took hold of him, making him groan in a nauseated pain.

With great difficulty, he managed to crawl towards the hole in the stone wall where he had stored his wand and after a few minutes trying to recompose himself, he managed to mumble the unlocking charm on the door, cursing under his breath when the sharp sound of the hinges echoed inside his aching head. 

The wizard tried to get up from the floor, but soon gave up on that idea when he felt his legs tremble in protest, letting himself fall to the floor and just contemplate how feverish, tired and weak he was. He was feeling more like a corpse than a human at that point, b ut the uncomfortable sensation of the cold and damp floor against his naked skin was enough encouragement for him to crawl towards the outside of his cell, just enough so that he could call for a house elf to assist him.

Just as he shuffled outside his cramped cell, he felt something soft on the edge of the wall, and when Draco ( _very cautiously_ ) opened his eyes to look, he was surprised to see Hermione there, sleeping on the floor, curled up much like he must have been hours later.

“Oh, Granger. Stubborn Gryffindor,” he rasped, and groaned when he felt life his throat was on fire. He tried to stifle the violent fit of coughing, but couldn’t quite stop himself from making sounds loud enough to wake the witch beside him.

“Draco!” She said as soon as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the dungeons. Hermione reached for him, gasping in surprise when she felt how hot to the touch he felt. “You have a fever.”

He could bring himself to say anything else, but nodded slightly, as a way of recognizing that she was addressing him. 

With a quick wave of her wand, she transfigured her coat into a warm blanket, covering up the man. And with the help of some house elves, she managed to bring him to his old room, promptly setting him in his bed, while some elves hurried to the kitchens to prepare some tea and some food, while Hermione grabbed a Pepper up potion and called for his mother.

As the morning progressed and Draco started to feel like a human again, he began to lightly protest against Hermione’s mothering, trying to get up from the bed and go on about his day, but she insisted he needed to rest until his fever subsided, assuring him that she’d warn Harry about the whole situation. At the edge of the room, she could see Narcissa quietly watching them interacting with each other.

Draco was looking at her, staring intensely and in deep thought. He gave her plenty of time for her to ponder what she wanted to say.

“I need to go to work,” Hermione told him, and she swore she could see the man deflate a bit.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” he shrugged his shoulder, feigning a nonchalant semblant.

Even though she nodded in response, she didn’t move away, letting his silvery eyes meet her brown ones in a seemingly pointless staring contest. After a few seconds of silence, the pureblood witch excused herself from the room letting them both alone.

“Do you regret it?” Hermione asked in a whisper, and he raised an eyebrow in a silent question, letting her continue. “Roderick was aiming at me, before you jumped in. Do you regret blocking the attack?” 

He widened his eyes in shock and looked at the witch, who now had tears of regret brimming on her eyes. When he responded, he didn't hesitate, making sure to looked at her directly in the eyes. 

“I don’t,” he dared to get closer to her, gently wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. “It was worth it. I would have done it again if I needed to.”

“But it should have been me,” she cried, letting a tear fall and burying herself further into Draco’s arms. He held her closer, letting her cling to him and only partially enjoying her weight against his frame.  


“It shouldn’t. I did my job as an auror. I fully knew the risks.”

“Will you at least let me help you go through it? I promised you I would!”

He sighed in defeat, feeling guilty for the situation he had put Hermione in. 

After his attack, they spent the entire month closely together - even closer than what they had been before that fateful mission. Talking, working and even going on a date and stealing a kiss or two when they thought no one was watching.

It had been a _mistake._

Because now that Draco saw how truly brilliant, caring and loving the beautiful witch was, he wasn’t sure if he could ever let her go. And as much as he considered himself a selfish coward, the blond wizard couldn’t accept the fact that he’d undermine Hermione’s reputation and life. Her happiness.

“Stop thinking you’re not good enough for me,” he felt her lips moving against his skin and for a second, he was afraid the witch had developed some Legilimency skills overnight. But then again, he wouldn’t put it past her.

“Hermione-”

“I knowwho you are Draco. I know you never believed in blood purity and you know that  I don’t care about your lycanthropy!”

“Well, there’s still-”

“I don’t care about what the likes of Rita Skeeter has to say, and even if I did, I have the means of shutting her up indefinitely!”

“And what about-”

“Harry and Ginny are your friends too, and Ron likes you, even though he won’t admit it," and before he could even open his mouth, she added. "I'm not scared of Lucius either and I dare say your mother is a lovely witch!”

Draco stopped trying to voice his concerns, glaring at the witch instead, as she crossed her arms and glared back at him.

“We are not done talking about this,” he barked out, when she announced that she _‘really needed to go to work, or else her boss would throw another tantrum’_. 

“Good! We do have a lot to discuss,” she said with a defiant smirk, and although he wanted to keep his façade as a sour man, he couldn’t help but let out a small smile as well.  “Now promise me you won’t shut me out until we actually talk about what we both want.  Promise me, Draco!”

He remained quiet for a second, holding his breath as he admired the witch standing before him. 

Hermione was beautiful, even when her warm brown eyes were still red and puffed up from the tears she had shed earlier on, or when her long curly hair looked like a monstrous tangled mess because she slept on the floor for an entire night. _(_ _ Because of him! Because she wanted to make sure he wouldn’t be alone! ) _

Finally, he reached for her hand, and tenderly swiped his thumb across her skin, making sure to kiss the back of her hand with as much solemnity as a sick and bed-ridden man could muster. Neither of them could be sure what the future holds for them, but it was clear that there was no denying how much they cared for each other - in their own ways.

After a moment of purposeful silence, the wizard looked at the witch, and spoke with determination.

“I promise.”


End file.
